Invincible
by Whispers To Kill
Summary: [Trigger Warning: ED/Bulimia] Shame seared her body. The stench of the food sent saliva rushing beneath her tongue, caused her blood to rush, and halted her breath as if she was ensnared in a contemptible, erotic trance. She had forsaken herself by entering such an abominable place, and she had desolated her remaining morale by submitting to such a sinful desire.


**Trigger Warning: Graphic descriptions of purging & eating disordered behaviors/thoughts. **

**Bulimia/Self-Help Hotline: 1-314-588-1683**

**National Eating Disorders Association: 1-800-93102237**

* * *

Each breath abandoned her breathless body in shallow, quivering puffs. Her gaze was disoriented, as if she viewed the world through cracked and begrimed lenses. She trembled in her attempt to stand motionless, in the desperate hope that such stillness would grant her invisibility. The crowd around her was deafening and every shriek of a spoiled child and holler of a friendly citizen struck her with a bolt of anxiety. The beats of her heart were erratic as she struggled beneath apprehension and terror – oh, what if someone were to witness her presence in such an appalling place?

Shame seared her body. The stench of the food sent saliva rushing beneath her tongue, caused her blood to rush, and halted her breath as if she was ensnared in a contemptible, erotic trance. Atrocious, golden grease bubbled and hissed as fries tumbled into the simmering pool; the splash of soda gushing onto ice sizzled and crackled; and the essence of spicy, crispy chicken and juicy, sultry beef poisoned the air. She ached for the delectable, disgusting aliment, and she trembled for its taste.

She had forsaken herself by entering such an abominable place, and she had desolated her remaining morale by submitting to such a sinful desire. She had purchased _fast food – _a gluttonous, fatty, corrupt, ignominious, lowly indulgence. She could feel the eyes of those surrounding her, sneering at her repugnant form and mocking her greedy, mountainous order. Of course, she was hideous if this was what she consumed – of course she was hideous for eating at all.

Frustration and terror flared in her body as the mob of pubescent boys standing before her in line sauntered away, leaving her exposed in the restaurant, for all to examine. What was taking the order so long? Her vision bored into the acne-covered boy who was preparing her food, and a chill rippled through her body as the anticipation constricted her breath.

"Plain chicken sandwich and two large fries!" She cringed as the worker announced her order for the entire world to hear, and quickly snatched the paper bag from his clutch and muttered a rushed, curt "thank you." Shame flooded her cheeks in the form of a red, hot blush. The alluring scent flowing from the bag made her heart rate race, and she frantically dashed out of the restaurant, across the road, through her neighbor's yard and into her house. She tiptoed down the hallway, past his sleeping brother's room and snuck into her own room.

With furious hands, she ripped open the bag, and saliva rushed beneath her tongue so quickly it stung. She tore the wrapping from her chicken sandwich and sunk her teeth into the savory, luscious item. The bread was warm, fluffy, and sweet as honey; the chicken was tender, crispy, and juicy. She relished each succulent bite. "_You're vegetarian," _part of her shrieked. "_Binges don't count,"_ another part spat.

The last bite of her sandwich tumbled down her throat, and she snatched the hot fries from the bag. Crystals of salt glimmered on the delicious, golden treat, and she crammed a handful of the crunch delicacy into her mouth. Again and again, until her hands were sopping with grease and burning from the salt, she devoured the mountain of French fries. The salt was a fiend and robbed her of all the liquid in her mouth, leaving her parched and sore, yet she could not halt until the massive fry containers had been emptied. Not a single crumb remained.

Her stomach protested angrily as she devoured her meal, before she guzzled a bottle of bubbly, sugary soda. The carbonation in the soda deepened the ache in her stomach, and she struggled to walk upright as she stumbled towards her trashcan.

She was exhausted of energy and terribly pained by her consumption; a part of her wished to crawl beneath her bed covers, snuggle her stuffed animals, and cry herself to sleep. However, the food corrupting her body had to be eradicated, and she could not succumb to such disgusting behavior as _digestion_ _of fast food_.

She forced her trembling fingers down her throat, and shivered as the familiar, dreadful sensation of nausea shocked her body. Atrocious, animalistic sounds echoed in her room as she gagged on her own finger tips. The food descended from her stomach in thick, viscous clumps that clogged her airway and landed with a hideous thump. Burps and choking made a rude song of her misery, and tears burned the dry skin in the corners of her eyes. Gelatinous globs of half-digested food coated her finger tips, and the putrid taste of acid coated her tongue.

Unfinished but exhausted to her limit, she sunk to the ground and stared into the mess she had created dully. Her back ached from intense strain, and her cheeks were irritated and inflamed; a vile scent accompanied her every movement. Mucus trickled down her throat in repugnant excess, and her chest throbbed as she struggled to clear her throat.

Disappointment descended over her form in a somber, dismal veil. It had been six days since she had last purged and three weeks since she had partaken in such an excessive, purposeful, disordered binge. She feared to fall back into old patters of wasted days consumed only by repetitive binges and purges. She _wanted_ to recover; she _wanted_ to live a life of security, love and _healthy_ coping skills.

Yet a very potent, powerful part of her still drew dangerous pleasure from such noxious behavior. It was the grand relief – the ultimate coping skill in her regime; it was her savior. All of her disastrous emotions of hate, depression and inferiority were relinquished from their hidden cages and satisfied with each session. It brought her relief; it brought her euphoria. No person cared to listen to her petty word; no person cared for her frivolous life. A purge always listened; a purge always cared.

Oh, she knew it was all horribly wrong! The purge was a false, deceitful demon, waiting to tear open her throat and rob her of life – but the sensations of pleasure poisoned her mind. What harm could a simple purge do? In her mind she was invincible, immune to the consequences of health. Tooth decay, esophagus tears, arrhythmia, osteoporosis – of course, none of those would ever afflict her, and hypothetically, if they ever did, they would be worthwhile. (But certainly they wouldn't – she was invincible.) Purging was the thread that sustained her life. Purging was every breath she breathed. Purging was her ruin and later her death, yet none of it mattered to that invincible girl.


End file.
